


Contrition

by Arxixad



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Addiction, Existential Crisis, Fel Magic, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, I'll tag this more as I go, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arxixad/pseuds/Arxixad
Summary: Kil'jaeden confronts his choices.





	Contrition

This world was dying, scorched in the fires of an infinite army, writhing like a hostless parasite toward a meaningless goal. And yet, even now, it found ways to fight.

Weary and grim, the Deceiver surveyed the battlefield. The Legion’s enemies had long since fallen or retreated, and the dark, scarred earth was littered with twisted bodies. Even now, Kil’jaeden could see the effects of battle on the Eredar warlocks around him; they slumped against the rocks, their hands shivering, their faces pale and gaunt. This world’s inhabitants had been dark-hearted and vicious, with strange weapons that sapped the energy of their foes. It was Kil’jaeden’s original intent to recruit them, but they were so flighty, so easily angered, that they’d turned against the Nathrezim infiltrators within days. Now there was little option left but total annihilation.

After a long, brutal campaign, the Legion had prevailed. _But,_ Kil’jaeden thought as he examined his shaking, scarred limbs, _how much have we lost?_

His mind was sluggish, faded by the infernal blades of his enemies. He needed sustenance, and he had to act fast. Otherwise, this conquest would be for naught.

Something brushed his shoulder, and Kil’jaeden turned unsteadily to see an Eredar with grim, dull eyes peering up at him. “Deceiver,” he murmured. “L-Lieutenant Merizaal is injured s-severely and…” He raised a hand to his mouth as his voice trailed off into a hacking cough; when he lowered his arm, flecks of bright green speckled his fingers. “She asked for you.”

Kil’jaeden nodded and allowed the other Eredar to guide him to a stony outcropping, where felguards and a few other warlocks crouched around a crumpled, bleeding figure. Fel-blood trickled faster as the figure turned its head, revealing an elegant, desperate face.

“My lord…”

Kil’jaeden knelt next to Merizaal, his face blank. Her wounds were dire indeed; one shoulder had been completely dislocated and was oozing green, while her heaving lungs were visible through a scorched gash in her chest. Ignoring the mutters from those around him, he placed a trembling hand above her heart, then met her gaze.

She was doomed, and they both knew it.

Kil’jaeden closed his eyes and brushed against her mind, soothing her, telling her that her life force would sustain their righteous cause, trying to lessen the pain to come. But Merizaal’s last thoughts were of sheer terror as Kil’jaeden siphoned away her essence, leaving her a withered husk on the stony ground.

His soldiers relaxed as the energy was shared among them and their wounds were healed. Some grinned and cheered. But Kil’jaeden remained silent, lost in his thoughts and emotions, as the tainted sky above them pulsed with shadow.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress. Be assured that there will be more to come, and those tags up there will start to make much more sense as I go.


End file.
